Unwanted
by HeartzofMen
Summary: The Wizarding Public is invited, Voldemort is not... Let's see how he takes it, shall we?


Unwanted

"The wizarding public is invited. But Voldemort is not."  
–Sir Ollivander

"Excuse me, sir? Your name?"

The hooded figure appeared not to hear, and kept walking, "inconspicuously," past the Auror who was standing by the gate of Hogwarts grounds, keeping track of who entered the Open House.

"EXCUSE me, sir? Your name?" The Auror was beginning to get annoyed.

The figure hesitated, now, and turned round.

"Don't worry about that," said the figure in a very... a very hissy sort of voice. "I'm sure I'm on the list."

The Auror fidgeted a bit–there was something about that voice that very much unnerved him.

"I'm sorry, but I need your–"

The hood was thrown off in a moment and the Auror's eyes flew open.

"Oh my Lord!"

The Auror had intended the word "Lord" to indicate some sort of deity whom he may have believed ruled over the universe–such a Lord whom it would make an awful bit of sense to cry out to in desperation when confronted with the sight that the Auror faced.

However, he had very much not intended to refer to this particular "Lord"...

The Dark Lord sneered at the Auror, raised his skeletal hand, holding his long, yew wand, and pointed it at the Auror. He laughed a high, cold laugh–a very un-temperature-esque laugh, as you could imagine, because a high temperature is not a cold temperature, and a cold temperature is not a high one, so it was really very much an altogether different thing–and, in fact, a rather silly comparison to make.

"Perhaps you've changed your mind about letting me in...?" said the Dark Lord.

The Auror gaped wordlessly for a moment and stared at the wand, just stared at it... the Dark Lord laughed his cruel, un-temperature-esque laugh once again.

"Fool," he muttered, and then began, "Avada Ked–"

Now, Voldemort had not recently taken up some strange sort of shorthand spellcasting–instead, his speech was broken by this nice line of narrative:

A thought suddenly flashed before the Auror's mind, and he thanked the Lord–no, NOT this one, why on earth do you keep thinking that...? In a moment, he had taken a step backwards through the Hogwarts gate.

"–avra!" concluded the Dark Lord, but amazingly, the jet of green light did not kill the Auror. It did not even touch him. It stopped dead in its footprint-less tracks and ended itself just at the edge of the gate in a little burst of flame, like the striking of a match, which then extinguished itself before it ever really had a chance to light up the world.

The Dark Lord's slit-like eyes widened considerably–so that they could be described as lemon-shaped.

"Wha...!" the Dark Lord whined, as the Auror began to breathe easier, deep in and out on the other side of the gate. "What the hell was that...?"

Iiiiinnnnn... oooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuutttttttttttttt... thought the Auror, breathing. My God he's ugly, he mentally appended, still breathing because he hadn't died since his last thought.

Finally, the Auror managed to speak: "It's a new ward we've come up with. It makes the spell think that the barrier is made of wood, so when strikes it, it catches fire. And then there's another new spell that extinguishes the fire before it can spread, and repairs the ward itself. It's rather foolproof, actually... I nearly forgot about it... lucky I remembered..."

Voldemort made a face. "Curses!" he muttered.

The Auror nodded. "Yeah... curses, and spells, and jinxes, it'll keep 'em all out, there's nothing you can do to me..."

The face that Voldemort made a moment before transformed itself into a grimace. He seemed resigned to the fact that he wouldn't get in, now: "Oh, well," he hissed disappointedly. He deflated a bit, metaphorically speaking. "I hate it when it's the simple things that foil my plans... how long did that ward take to come up with?"

"Actually, it was the Minister's five-year-old's idea, if you can believe it... the little tyke..."

This was odd, in the Auror's mind... this... conversation sort of thing, with the Dark Lord Voldemort. His instincts told him that he should run for help–perhaps for Harry Potter, since maybe he could vanquish this guy once and for all...

...but then, after the initial shock... You-Know-Who was rather pathetic-looking, really. He was all inhuman, and everything, and he was so ugly... and on top of it all, he was prematurely bald...

Perhaps he needs someone to talk to.

While the Auror had been contemplating all this, Voldemort had settled himself cross-legged in the grass and rested his snake-like head on his fist, staring dejectedly at the ground. He looked so sad, and pitiable...

"Are you OK?" said the Auror sympathetically.

Voldemort looked up at him in surprise, as though he'd forgotten he was there.

"Oh, yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"You don't sound very fine."

"Oh, and now you're making fun of my voice?" Voldemort laughed humourlessly, sadly, as though he didn't find it very funny at all. "I'm a very skilled Legilimens, you know, and I heard that bit about me being bald... Do you think I wanted to lose my hair? I had nice hair!"

"I'm sure you did..."

"It was black and shiny and I got compliments on it all the time. Have you ever heard of Hepzibah Smith?"

"No," said the Auror, shaking his head.

"Well... she told me my hair was very nice, several times," the Dark Lord said quickly, defensively.

"Oh. I'm sorry, then..."

"Well, I don't forgive people, so you're just out of luck, aren't you?" said Voldemort, and he lay back then and rested his head on his arms, behind his head. He took a deep breath, and the Auror sighed, looking at him so sad like that... if he wasn't a homicidal maniac, he seemed like he might be a decent chap...

"All I wanted," murmured Voldemort, "was to go to this Open House thing. It's kind of like a... like a party, isn't it? I've never been to a real party, I've always wondered what they were like..."

Awww...

"Well... I'm sorry, Mr You-Know-Who, but you're not on the list. I can't let anybody through the gate unless they're on the list. You weren't invited."

"Of course I wasn't," said Voldemort sadly. "I'm never invited..." He looked at the Auror curiously, then. "Could I see that list?"

Feeling bad for him, the Auror tossed the clipboard-and-parchment out through the gate. It landed on the grass next to the Dark Lord, who sat up, took it in his hands, and looked at it.

His jaw dropped.

"This isn't a list!" he exclaimed.

"That's who's invited," said the Auror. "I'm under strict orders to follow those orders, strictly. No exceptions."

"But all this says is 'The Wizarding public is invited. But Voldemort is not.' That's not a list, that's... that's discrimination!"

"Don't take it like that..."

But Voldemort seemed to be fuelled anew with righteous anger, now–he had jumped to his feet, and was now pacing back and forth, mulling things over in his head.

"It most certainly is discrimination–I am part of the Wizarding public, am I not? Why should I be excluded from the festivities just because I've committed a couple heinous acts in my past...?"

"Um..."

Voldemort's eyes lit up with an idea.

"What would Dumbledore think of this?" he asked. "Would he stand for this? No! Albus Dumbledore believed in second chances! If he were still headmaster of this fine educational institution, there is no way I would be excluded purely on the proceedings of my past..."

"I'm not sure about that," said the Auror, shaking his head. "I mean... you are the 'Dark Lord,' aren't you? If you were in charge, would you want a 'Dark Lord' to come and crash your party?"

Voldemort pouted a moment, and then, another idea striking him, said, "That's discrimination as well! You're judging me based on the colour of my title! If I had proclaimed myself the Light Lord all those years ago, you surely would let me in..."

Good point, thought the Auror. Maybe he's onto something with this discrimination thing...

"I'm sorry, sir, but... I just don't think there's anything I can do. I can't break the rules..."

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes, which made them look rather funny, all slitty and stuff... and then he looked away, and began pacing again. The Auror thought he heard something like "I'll bet he was in Hufflepuff" muttered disdainfully under his breath.

The Auror blinked. "...and what's that supposed to mean...?"

Voldemort looked up, shocked-looking. "What's what supposed to mean?"

"That Hufflepuff remark!"

Voldemort looked at him innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Whatever, thought the Auror. Then, as though a voice deep inside his mind had muttered a Lumos! charm, an idea popped up in his head.

"Sir... I can't let you come in to the open house... but perhaps I can bring the open house to you!"

Voldemort blinked. "What?"

The Auror smiled. "Hang on a moment, I'll be right back–!"

––

When the Auror returned, he held in his hands what looked like a pair of binoculars.

"These are one of our newest D-M-Double-Ds–"

"What?" asked Voldemort.

"Dark Magic Detection Devices," said the Auror. Then he blinked, and said, "I've just realised, we've gotten to be almost good acquaintances, and you don't even know who I am. The name's Mike."

"Hello. I am Lord Voldemort," said Voldemort, not sounding all that friendly.

"Pleased to meet you," said Mike. He fiddled with the knobs on the binoculars. "Now, these are meant to be used to detect Dark Magic, obviously–but they'll also work to let you get a glimpse of the demonstrations."

He tossed the binoculars to Voldemort, who caught them deftly in his nimble, skeletal hand.

"Nice catch," said Mike. "Now... if you just put them to your face..."

Voldemort did, somewhat hesitantly. He grinned evilly as he looked through. "You have a pimple on your nose..."

"Really? I didn't notice it... oh." Mike rubbed his nose, and sure enough, Voldemort was right. "Thank you, I suppose... well, if you turn those knobs there, you can change your viewpoint so that it's like you're walking round. You can go forward and round corners and everything, so you can see everything in here while you stay out there. I can't believe I didn't think of it before..."

Voldemort began fiddling with the knobs, and he continued smirking. "What will you Ministry people think of next... can I keep them?"

"I don't see why not, we've got loads of them..."

Mike watched as Voldemort scanned the grounds. He seemed to be looking at all the different stands in turn, looking at the stage and the booths and the MLE Challenges...

"I wouldn't fancy signing up to compete in one of those challenges. There're so many requirements... and then if you do have everything they want, it's near impossible to win, there's so many people..."

"What is that stand with the bubble thing?" Voldemort inquired after a while.

"Oh... that's another D-M-double-D. We call it the Cone of Silence, it blocks out absolutely all sound around the two people talking in it."

"It looks awkward and uncomfortable. Why not just use a Silencing Charm?"

Mike looked at the Dark Lord rather patronisingly. "Now, sir... what if you didn't have a wand? What if you were kidnapped by Death Eaters–hmm, that's not very likely for you, is it...?–well, what if you were kidnapped and your wand had been taken, and you needed to speak in private?"

"You expect to have that thing on you when you've been kidnapped? My Death Eaters are more than competent enough to notice a pair of giant connected bubble-esque hats."

"Erm... well, you never know, do you? It could come in handy."

"Pfft."

"Did you just say 'pfft'?"

"Perhaps," said Voldemort, still scanning. He muttered "Where is he...?"

"Where is who?"

"What?"

"You said Where is he?... where is who?"

"Oh, nobody," said Voldemort innocently.

Mike blinked. "That wasn't very convincing, you know." Then his eyes widened. "Not Harry Potter! I thought you'd changed your ways, why would you be looking for Harry Potter! You're not still trying to kill him, are you?"

"Erm..." murmured Voldemort, "of course not. I want to apologise to him personally. Yes. That's it."

"Oh," said Mike. "That makes sense. Do you want me to get him for you?"

Voldemort grinned–and Mike would have called it 'evilly' if he didn't know better. "Oh, that would be terribly nice of you..."

Mike smiled. "I'll be right back, then!"

––

It took Mike several minutes to track down Harry Potter, as he was rather well-hidden in the narrow space between two of the booths. Mike had no idea what he was doing there...

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter? There's someone here to see–oh."

Mike blinked as he realised Harry was not alone in the narrow space between two of the booths, but instead had a... companion.

"Honestly," muttered Harry's companion, a pretty red-headed witch who had jumped a mile at Mike's voice, "can't we ever just snog in peace? There's always somebody..."

"I thought this was a great hiding place, too," muttered Harry disappointedly, fixing his glasses back on his face. He spoke to Mike: "What is it?"

"There's someone here who wishes to speak with you. It's important."

"Oh, fine," said Harry. He turned back to the girl, "I'll be back in a bit, Gin..." He kissed her quickly on the lips and turned to Mike.

"Who is it?"

"You'll see," said Mike, smiling.

––

Voldemort had followed the Auror with the binoculars, followed him to Potter's hiding place and he was now following the two of them back to the gate where he stood. They were still a few hundred yards away, out of sight without the binoculars...

Voldemort worked quickly–he raised his wand to the threshold of the gate.

"Reducto!" he said. Surely, if the ward worked the way the Auror had said, then the wood-esque invisible barrier would be gone with a Reductor Curse...

Yes–the formerly unseen sawdust was floating slowly to the ground from the hole he had blasted.

Oh, yes, completely foolproof...

He checked the binoculars–they were still quite a distance away.

Voldemort raised his wand once more and pointed at the same point–

"Aguamenti!" he murmured, and sure enough, the water flowed right through the hole and onto the other side. He moved it round a bit and saw it splash off the rest of the invisible barrier, to make sure he was correct–which he was, of course. The barrier would be useless to his spells now... it had a great hole in the middle of it.

Voldemort smirked evilly to himself as he saw Potter and the idiot Auror approaching in the distance. He aimed his wand, waiting impatiently for them to come within range...

Idiot Hufflepuff.

Fin.


End file.
